


late at night when you can’t fall asleep (i’ll be lying right beside you)

by spacecleavage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Happy Ending, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake hated Arkadia, he hated the buzz of the electric fence, that ever present hum, it reminded him of the Ark. He hated the metal walls; he hated how it felt like it was closing in around him. It hadn’t been this way for long. Only recently did he realise how stifling it was here, encased in this metal box, that is until Clarke got back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	late at night when you can’t fall asleep (i’ll be lying right beside you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorri10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorri10/gifts).



> prompt - My new favourite thing is canonverse Clarke comes home from Polis, Bellamy is still (rightfully) angry with her, and it all comes to a head with angry smut
> 
> big thanks to i-must-not-tell-lies-potterhead for beta-ing and a huge thanks to crooked-queen, bellamyplake and raincityruckus for being the amazing and supportive friends that they are.
> 
> also big thanks to raincityruckus for running this exchange

Bellamy Blake hated Arkadia, he hated the buzz of the electric fence, that ever present hum, it reminded him of the Ark. He hated the metal walls; he hated how it felt like it was closing in around him. It hadn’t been this way for long. Only recently did he realise how stifling it was here, encased in this metal box, that is until Clarke got back.

It had been three days since Clarke had walked back into the camp.

He had watched her walk in, her head down, unable to make eye contact with anyone, only half lifting head when her mother spoke to her. She barely acknowledged Harper as she wrapped her arms around her, flinched when Raven put her arm around her shoulder and walked her further into camp.

Bellamy had just turned back to look out over the training cadets, trying his hardest not to acknowledge her presence, which was made worse by the whispers of the cadets and their questioning stares flicking between Clarke and himself.

.

For the first few weeks he rarely saw her, she hardly left her room and he stepped up his duties. Taking on possibly too much work, as the only time he was in camp was when was sleeping. On constant rotation for the guard shifts, and the days he had off were spent in the forest collecting supplies for the camp.

He heard gossip about her in his work groups, he couldn’t avoid it even if he tried (which he had), heard how she barely left her mother’s quarters, how she worked in the infirmary storeroom, organising the medications, preparing concoctions, testing substances. He heard how Lincoln would sit with her quietly, working much like she did. He tried to drive his shovel into the ground harder when he heard about what was left of the hundred, slowly going to see her, slowly sneaking in. His jaw ached when he heard about Raven sitting beside Clarke the first time she ate. The tendons in his hands felt like they would snap when they talked about her accepting Harper’s hugs, her shoulder bumping into Monty’s shoulders.

He threw his shovel down and stalked away when they tried to ask him. He knew rationally he should have been calmer, told them to mind their own business and continued working. But rationality wasn’t his strong suit when it came to her.

.

Even when she started spending time outside her quarters, he was hardly around. His day normally consisted of waking as the sun rose, grabbing a roll from the kitchen as he moved out to the training area. He’d spend hours there, brushing up on his skills, helping the cadets improve theirs, by eleven, he’d be hungry again, so he’d swing by the kitchen again, snagging whatever food he could, before he moved out with the next work detail. Some days they would gather food, seasonal fruits and berries, the occasional vegetable or root as well (though they were mainly collected for the growing garden at Arkadia), other days it would be herbs and medicinal plants, but the hardest days, the most exhausting were the days dedicated to wood chopping. He always knew it was tiring, but he’d had no idea how his muscles and joints ached after cutting down a tree and then chopping it into movable parts. On lucky days he’d get a break by carting a bunch of wood to a blind, but most days he wasn’t that lucky. They’d get back when the sun was setting. He’d then take over guard duty probably for a few hours, until late. When he’d drag his body and collapse on his bed, sometimes the exhaustion would be enough to wipe him out and get him a few hours of blessed sleep. On most nights he’d be haunted.

Haunted by the faces.

His mother’s hand would run through his hair, before her grip turned cruel, he’d look to her and her soulless eyes looked back. The three hundred souls from the Ark stared at him too. The faces of his people, the boys he trained, the girls he’d smiled at, all of them surrounding him, their eyes asking ‘why’, asking ‘how he could leave them, how he could let them die’. They surrounded him, smothering him, so close he could hardly breathe. He’d see their faces, the faces of those he’d killed and those who’d deaths he’d caused.

None of this woke him, the worst dreams were when they spoke. The voices of the children from Mount Weather haunted him, their singing, their laughter as they played, and their tears as they died, their screams as their flesh burnt, melted. His people in Mount Weather, calling for someone, for him to save them.

By morning he was awake whether he planned to be or not.

.

Eventually he started planning his day around not seeing her. When she started waking up around the same time as he did, he would wait until her blonde head would duck out of sight. When she started going out to collect the herbs and plants with them, he’d change off the rotation, picking up a guard shift instead. When he was with her, when he couldn’t avoid her, he ignored her, he’d refused to meet her gaze, would go out of his way not to touch her. He only spoke to her in clipped tones, and then only when she spoke to him.

He knew Clarke had no idea how to deal with it, how to deal with his anger.

He didn’t either.

Raven tried to talk to him about it, so did Monty and Miller. Kane sat him down a month and a half after Clarke got back and talked to him about moving on and letting go of grudges. It washed over him, barely making a dent, like waves breaking on the shore.

.

Bellamy stared out over the forest, the sun had set hours ago but one of the groups had yet to return from camp. He knew it was possible they’d just got lost, but a part of him wondered if the Grounders on the border had something to do with it. Clarke’s fucking treaty may have let them down again!

He glared out from the sentry post, as the soft crunching footsteps alerted him to someone arriving, the ladder creaking under them as they rose.

Bellamy knew who it was with only the tiniest of a glance. He didn’t know when he’d become so familiar with her. Did he learn the sound of her footsteps as she paced around the drop ship? Or was it when they walked to Ton DC, the death of Finn stretching the silence between them? Did he memorise how fire light made her hair glint on Unity day, or was it earlier than that? He knew her smile and her laugh, he knew how her body felt when he tried to teach her how to fire and aim a gun.

He made sure not to react when she sat down beside him. He had been trying his hardest not to react to her at all, ever since she walked back through that gate. (Her hair longer, her face sharper and her spirit damaged but not destroyed.)

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, both of them staring out over the forest. He wondered if she was trying to work up the courage to talk. Or if she just wanted to spend time with him. He dwelled on that for a while, trying to make up his mind. But it did no good, because his thoughts only led him back to his anger.

“Look Bellamy, I understand why you are angry. But we have to get over this, for our people.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, not a full hearted, belly laugh, nor a throaty chuckle, no instead it was a bitter one that left a sour taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest.

It takes him only a moment to sober though, he could feel Clarke stiffen beside, her entire body as though she’d been shocked by a baton, all her muscles cramping up.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!” Her voice almost cracked as she spoke.

“Our people? I don’t think so.” He let his anger out, let himself just react to her without thinking.

“Bellamy!” She tried to reprimand him.

“No Clarke, you don’t get to call them your people! You left us!” It was like someone had removed the filter that normally kept him in check; that kept his thoughts from spilling out of her mouth. The words kept flowing out of him, and he knew he’d probably regret it later, but now, he was here. And he couldn’t let this go on any longer.

“You told me Bellamy, you told me all this months ago.”

“You don’t get it Clarke, you left again, you were here and you left again. You choose to go back to them, you choose the Grounders over us.”

“It wasn’t that simple…”

“You stayed with them Clarke, after all they had did!”

“I had to!”

“You had to? You said you were staying as our representative! You hadn’t been with us for months! You didn’t see what Mount Weather did to us!”

“I know what happened in Mou-”

“You think you know!” She couldn’t look away from him. “Thirty si-seven, they killed! They slaughtered! And what did your treaty do then?”

She was clearly aghast. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, she’s finally getting it, he thought. He’d thought he might have to yell all night, might have to drum his message into her skull for her to finally understand. He’d also thought it would resolve his anger, that letting her understand would maybe, maybe let him move on. But then again, maybe she didn’t get it, as he watched her eyes harden.

“You think I didn’t feel their deaths? You think I don’t think about them all the time? That they don’t haunt me too?”

“How the fuck would I know? How would I know, Clarke?” His voice echoed in the night air, the first hints of winter were in it. The crisp air biting at their exposed skin, the wind came in hard gusts, chilling him to the core. “You left and I picked up the pieces! I sat up with Monty talking about how alone he felt in the days he was missing. I stayed with Harper, just to make sure when she woke up she knew she was out. I watched Raven fall so many times, her body so weak she could only spend a few hours awake before she fell into a fitful sleep. I held Miller’s hand while he talked about his boyfriend he thought he’d never see again. I had to hold myself back when Jasper drank himself in a stupor every day. I was so busy holding them together, I forgot how to do it for myself.” The tears were burning at his eyes, moments away from tumbling down his cheeks.

He waited, waited in silence for her to reply. For her to say anything. Stubbornly ignoring the wetness on his face.

“I’ve had no one Clarke, not since my sister and Lincoln walked out that gate. Not since-”

Lights flickering through the trees distracted him. His eyes finally pulling away from her and focusing on the light that blinked as it moved towards camp.

“We’re not done here,” and he was down the stairs, rushing to the gate and calling out to anyone close by.

.

Bellamy leant against the wall outside his quarters, the sharp disjointed metal of the Ark digging into his back, right between his shoulder blades. The pain kept him awake, drowsiness chased from his mind with the pain. He’d handed the lookout over to Miller, the stoic man noticing Bellamy’s drained appearance and hollow eyes.

He studied his hands as he waited for Clarke to appear from the med bay, he knew that she’d have to walk passed here. Her quarters were further back in the section and this was the only entrance or exit (if she didn’t try to crawl through the vents). He let his head drop back against the wall, his dark eyes staring out at nothing.

He felt … different, like all his anger had drained from him and now he was left with only sorrow and regret and loneliness, so much loneliness that he thought he might drown in it. He’d felt this way before, less than a year ago, he’d had an empty existence, going back home to his quarters which used to always feel too full and now was only him. He knew that loneliness and he hadn’t even realised that he’d fallen into his old patterns.

He could hear the doors open down the hall, the telltale thunk and the slight grating of metal. Clarke’s boots scraped softly across the floor, almost like she was trying to walk silently, but was too tired to do it properly.

He waited for her to round the corner, knowing she’d try to escape if he moved too soon and he needed to finish this, needed to get everything off his chest. She might not have wanted to hear it, and some part of him wondered whether she even deserved it, if she needed more pain and sorrow to add to her own. But then he was reminded of the bitter loneliness that had filled him after she left the first time, how he’d barely had the strength to survive. He couldn’t do that again, couldn’t deal with that but he couldn’t stay silent, because if she didn’t know, what would stop her leaving him all over again?

She finally rounded the corner, her stride halting as she saw him.

He was on her in an instant, crowding her to the wall. His hands fell on either side of her head, his fists clenching on nothing and his elbows pressed into the metal near her shoulders. His body so close he could smell antiseptic on her skin, he could study the imperfections on her eyelids, the wrinkles and folds.

“Bellamy,” she started, her voice bouncing off the walls in the corridor. “I can’t- you can’t-”

“I missed you so much Clarke, you were gone, and I had no one.”

“I had no one either Bellamy. I was alone, I needed to heal.”

“But why couldn’t we heal together? Why couldn’t we be together?” It was a whisper, a plea.

He stared at her lips, waiting for her reply, heartbeats slid by, first painstakingly slowly and then faster. Her tongue darted out to wet them slightly. His tongue must have unconsciously copied the movement, because her eyes followed the movement, swaying towards him so they were less than an inch apart. The warmth from her body seeping through his clothes, and as she raised her eyes to his, he could see her pupils were blown wide.

He knew, looking into her eyes, he knew.

His lips darted forward, followed by the rest of him crashing into her, his body pressing hers against the wall, as they finally kissed. He’d thought about kissing Clarke in the past, thought about how her lips would feel under his (soft, if slightly chapped), if her hands would clutch at him (they were), if their noses would bump (yes), if he’d forget to breathe (yes). He’d never wondered though, if it would be good, if he’d get half way through it and think it was a mistake (it most certainly was not).

But as he pulled back from, he was filled with the idea that it might not be good for her. That she might not want this. He pulled away further, only to be stopped by her hands, tugging him back for another kiss.

This time he truly gave himself over to the kiss. He didn’t think about how long he'd wanted to do this for, didn’t think about anything beyond this moment.

Her lips soft against his, her nose bumping against his as she desperately pulled him closer, her hands slipped underneath his jacket, bunching up his shirt around his waist. Her fingers ghosting across his skin, tendrils of heat spiralling out from fingertips.

She let out a little noise from the back of her throat when his teeth pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking softly, at first. It was a noise that caused heat to settle in low in his stomach. The taste of her was addictive, he couldn’t help trying to pull her further into him.

His hands fell to her shoulders, sliding down his arms to settle at her hips, as he ground his hips into them. He sunk his teeth into her lip, he increased the suction almost as if he was trying to suck a little piece of her inside him. Maybe even leave a little mark on her.

He looked down at her lips, and saw the dark stain left on her.

He didn’t know why he liked (loved) his mark on her skin, maybe it was because it was his mark. Or maybe it was because it reminded him that she was here, that she wasn’t going to disappear from his arms. That this was real.

Pushed back against her, dropping his lips to just below her jaw and setting his teeth into her skin, he tried not to be overwhelmed by her.

She let out little noises that set his heart racing and fuck, his pants were so tight, had they always been this tight? How were those noises coming out of her? They weren’t even in a bed yet? Bed, they should really move to a bed.

Bellamy went to lift her up, but was distracted as Clarke let her head fall back against the metal, her back arching up, pushing her breasts against his chest. One of her legs moved up, her foot dragging along his calf as her hips circled beneath his. It almost felt as though she was teasing him but then she spoke.

Her voice wrapped around him, drawing him in, and whispering into the depths of his mind. Only his name fell from her lips, but it was his name, over and over again. The primal part of him swelled with pride, knowing that his lips on her neck, his body pressed against hers, had let her slip into this pleasured haze. He then wondered what sounds she would make, what things she would say if his tongue was lower or his cock was inside her…

He let his hands fall to her thighs, his fingers digging into her for a moment, before he was lifting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, as she settled down around him, her lips on his neck, her teeth scraping his skin, her hands tugging his hair.

He groaned, her body set back on the wall as he tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t realised that this would press his cock right against her center, the warmth quickly sinking through his clothing. His hips jerked up, trying to find friction and Clarke let go of his throat, a loud gasp echoing down the hall. He did it again, relishing in the feeling of her legs tightening and her nails dragging down his scalp.

“Bed,” she gasped out. “Please, Bellamy,”

.

He dropped her on the bed and studied her as she reclined back, he could see the marks on her. His marks. On her lip, under her chin and a particularly dark one on the edge of her collar bone.

Fuck, he wanted her. He wanted her now, tomorrow. He wanted her forever.

He shook his head, before discarding his jacket, as well as his shirt. He fumbled with his belt for a moment before he jerked it open. Raising his gaze, he found Clarke in a less dressed state than him, left only in her panties and bra. He sucked in a gulp of air, before moving towards her.

He decided that there was nothing quite as satisfying as pressing his lips against hers, her beautiful body stretching out beneath him, her nails scoring down her back.

Then again, maybe it was the moan she made when he set his teeth into her skin.

Or perhaps the gasp when he palmed her breast.

It definitely could have been her hand, palming his cock through his clothes.

His hands wandered all over her exposed skin, tracing the curve under breast, following the dip of her waist, grazing against her belly. He felt the laced edge of her panties, he moved past them quickly to explore her thighs, his touch on her inner thighs so soft he wasn’t quite sure that he’d actually touched them, but then Clarke had shivered.

She set her center against his thigh, rubbing against him, seeking the friction he’d yet to give.

She huffed when his lips left hers, still swollen and tinged bright pink with the blood that had rushed there. She clearly withdrew her complaint when he kissed the swell of her breast. He tried to ignore the call within him to mark her again, to feel her writhe beneath him, to feel the dampness soak through her panties.

He dwelled at her breasts, pulling her bra free. First his fingers explored her, nails scraping the underside of breasts, tugging at her pebbled nipples. Then his mouth followed. He let his body slide down the bed, his hips pressing into the blanket, his tongue tracing her areolae before sucking her into his mouth, her body shaking with the pleasure. Finally his teeth, he let himself mark her again. Sucking her skin into his mouth, before teasing it with his teeth, the lightest of touches until she was begging. “More Bellamy, please Bellamy, harder,” her voice filling the room.

He ground his hips against the bed, begging himself to hold out just a little longer.

He moved down again, slowly until he was facing her pussy. He pulled her panties off her, before setting her thighs over his shoulders.

He breathed her in, her but headier and muskier, before his tongue began.

He couldn’t believe just how wet she was, how much she wanted this.

He set about finding her places, the spot that caused her to pull him against her, her clit which made her hips arch off the bed to chase his tongue. He didn’t enter her, enjoying finding her, learning her secrets, making her body shake.

The noises that had started before began again, this time accompanied by a litany of curses and her pleading, demanding more. One of his hands came up to her belly. Pushing her down each time she tried to chase his tongue. His other hand settled against her entrance, just two fingers teasing her. When he opened his eyes he could see one of her hands, teasing, plucking at her sensitive nipples, the other was searching for something. When she found his hand, she let their fingers intertwine, holding him to her. He looked further up to her face, her mouth open as she panted between her sounds, and her eyes, looking down at him, filled with lust.

He waited until she began to chant his name, allowing his fingers, now coated with her arousal, to sink inside her at the right moment, causing her to turn his name into a wail. His hips ground harder into the bed with the sound, no longer trying to fight off his need, but instead trying to quench it.

He scissored his fingers inside her, pressing against the nerves at her entrance.

“Please Bellamy, I’m so close,” Clarke begged above him. He debated keeping her here, to continue teasing her, almost torture her with the pleasure. But he heard her sob and he couldn’t help his response.

His fingers twisted inside her, and then he curled his fingers, almost like he was motioning her to come forward. He drew her clit into his mouth, humming as her body responded to him, and hoping it would fling her from the cliff and he’d be able to see her lose herself to the pleasure. To the pleasure he had given her.

She fell apart. He looked over her, her eyes fallen closed, her mouth open as though she was trying to catch her breath. He took all of her in, her back arching, her breasts and throat covered in his marks, her fingers clutching at the blanket, her thighs trembling by his head. He closed his eyes, etching her into his memory forever. Clarke Griffin, the girl from the sky, all her worries, and all her pain chased away, even if it was only for now.

He moved back up the bed, stroking her hair as she came down from her high. Her blue eyes, still glazed with pleasure, met his. And he knew. He knew she understood, that she was here, and even if they didn’t know what this new world of theirs held, he knew that she’d stand beside him, her hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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